


Denial

by ElwritesFanworks



Category: Orange is the New Black
Genre: Anger, Awkward Boners, Awkward Sexual Situations, Awkwardness, Canon Disabled Character, Co-workers, Depressing, Drinking, Dubious Consent, Frottage, Heteronormativity, Homophobic Language, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, My First Work in This Fandom, Pity Sex, Porn Watching, Self-Hatred, Sexuality Crisis, Threats of Violence, discomfort, heterosexuality is debatable, straight(ish) guys getting gay with each other, this is probably shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-06
Updated: 2014-09-06
Packaged: 2018-02-16 08:05:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2262150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElwritesFanworks/pseuds/ElwritesFanworks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mendez is really fucking drunk, and John is in over his head.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Denial

**Author's Note:**

> *set after 'that' scene where Mendez and Bennett are drinking together at the bar*
> 
> \---
> 
> I was house-sitting recently and spent my time binge-watching the first season of OitNB. Somehow this story happened, as a kind of continuation of the bar scene. I don't even know if it's decent - it's been cobbled together over sleepless nights and periods of intense uncertainty (I just had an extreme crisis in my personal life that has me VERY off-kilter lately.) So mostly I just posted this so I feel like I've done SOMETHING in the wake of all the crazy shit that's happening in my life right now.
> 
> Anyway. I don't know what to say about this. Other than that it's here. :/ Any mistakes are my own as I wrote this a while ago and have no beta reader, and am fucking exhausted. Hope you enjoy.
> 
> Also, I made up the porno titles. I know literally nothing about mainstream porn. If it ain't weird fringe stuff, I probably haven't seen it, lol.

* * *

Mendez is really fucking drunk.

Honestly, if he was just drunk, it would be bearable, but the guy has to go off on these crazy rants and macho speeches about how women are sexist and perpetually horny and how much John’s ‘having his back’ means to him and honestly, John doesn’t want to be dragged into it more than he already is.

“Come on, man, don’t pass out. I’m _not_ carrying you out of this car,” he says for what feels like the millionth time, worriedly looking over at his co-worker who is currently sitting, slumped, in the passenger seat, his eyes barely open. He mumbles something, and honest-to-God, a bead of fucking drool falls from his lips.

“Hey, stop drooling. Look, we’re here now, see?”

“Wha – this isn’t m’house,” Mendez says, only realizing that when they pull up to park.

“I don’t think you should be alone until you sober up a bit. We don’t want you tripping over something and cracking your head open,” John says, and Mendez really must be wasted, since he doesn’t even try to deny the likelihood of that happening. He just claps John really hard on the shoulder and grins.

“Y’ra good man,” he says, all bravado and inebriation.

John shrugs off the hand.

“Uh… thanks.”

Once they reach John’s place, the veteran helps Mendez to the couch and gets him a trashcan in case he has to throw up, before looking around for a spare set of sheets.  
  
“You can sleep here tonight, if you want. The couch is pretty comfortable,” he says, and Mendez nods.

“Sure, sure… c’mere. Let’s si’down.”

Reluctantly, John takes a seat at the far end of the couch, settling with a sigh. They sit in a slightly tense silence for a few minutes.

“Would it be totally weird for you if I took my… leg off?” he says at last, not making eye-contact because he’s still not used to having to ask people things like that, let alone someone as unpredictable as Mendez. “I just… it’s not the most comfortable thing in the world.”

Mendez nods, shrugging.

“Y’do _whaaaaaaatever_ y’need t’do, brother.”

Brother? Where the fuck is this coming from? Christ, Mendez is fucking _hosed._

John eases his leg out of his prosthetic, setting it aside with a quiet ‘ah’ of satisfaction.

“Hee-ey, y’gotany beer?” Mendez asks suddenly. John frowns.

“Honestly… I think I’m gonna have to cut you off. You want anything else? I’ve got juice, coffee, tea –”

“What about porn?”

John blinks, mouth falling open in shock.

“Excuse me?”

“If’w’aren’t drinking w’need t’ keep th’party going soooomehow. Put s’me porn on, man. Y’got cable?”

“Uh… pay-per-view… yeah, but are you sure you want to –”

Mendez leans over, swaying, and slaps John’s knee a little too hard.

“Look, guys watch porn t’gether like this’ll th’time,” he argues. John bites off a retort and shrugs. He’s feeling a bit antsy, has been thinking about Daya a lot today, and honestly, if Mendez wasn’t around he’d probably have been jerking off by now anyway.

“I dunno… man, it’s a little weird…”

“Noooo it’s isn’t. Just no homo, man. No homo,” Mendez says emphatically. “Seriously. It’s not a fag thing.”

“Okay. Right. For sure…”

John pushes his doubts from his mind, because giving in is easier than fighting, and grabs the remote off the coffee table, clicking the TV on and going to the guide, looking at titles.

“Okay, we got… Sorority Sex-Addicts?”

“Seen it.”

“Tatted Titty Twins.”

“Seen it.”

“Horny Latin Whor-”

“I’ve seen all these!” Mendez complains. _It’s not like it’s high art, just watch it again,_ John thinks _. Who’d have thought that Mendez was a porno snob?_

“Okay… how’s Freshman Cheer Squad Sluts sound?” he asks and Mendez nods, so he selects it.

It takes John about five seconds to realize there are no women on the screen, and by then the two male cheerleaders are stripping down to their shorts. By the time he looks over at Mendez, he can hear the slurping sound of Skinny Brown-Haired Guy giving Tanned Muscular Blond the kind of dispassionate head expected of someone who's switching teams solely to pay the bills.

Mendez is so drunk that, for a while, John thinks maybe his brain is still processing that neither of the cheerleaders in this have tits, but then he notices the dazed look on his co-worker’s face, the way his skin is flushed and his lips are slightly parted, and how he’s unconsciously wetting them with the tip of his tongue. A quick glance downwards revealed that ‘Little George’ is taking an interest as well, and John feels like one of the laws of the universe was just disproven because in no possible reality is Mendez into guys, even a little bit. No way in hell.

John clears his throat hesitantly.

“Fuck, sorry. Stupid description – they’re supposed to say if the movie’s straight or not,” he says, too loudly. Mendez damn near jumps out of his skin and goes a little pale, making a face and hunching over a bit, arms crossed over his lap, trying to hide the boner that John has already seen.

“Yeah, man, fucking gross. Turn that shit off.”

The next adult entertainment channel they try has some busty Puerto Rican chick eating out a hot redhead with huge tits. John leaves it on and the tension in the room dissipates a little.

The redhead lets out a shaky moan and John hardens a bit. He looks over at Mendez again, and _fuck -_ he’s trying to rub one out through his jeans. He’s still got his arms crossed like it’s supposed to be subtle, but there is no discrete way to beat off while sitting two feet away from someone. John is almost angry and then the redhead moans and his cock twitches and the next thing he knows, he’s doing the same damn thing.

This continues for a while, and John can’t help but wonder what all this is going to amount to, envisioning coming in his pants with Mendez doing the same, making everything really awkward between them and destroying any good memories he’s ever had of his couch.

Mendez swears under his breath, gripping himself through his jeans, and it startles John so much that he knocks the remote off the couch and onto the floor. It smashes open, the batteries fall out and roll across the room, and the station jumps back to the gay cheerleaders. John curses, angling his uninjured leg towards the nearest Double A, trying to kick it towards himself.

“Fuck!” he shouts, frustrated by his own incapacitation. “Look, give me a hand here, or else we’ll just have to leave it –”

“So leave it,” Mendez says quickly, trying to sound casual and failing.

“W-what?”

“Just fucking leave it,” Mendez repeats, with a strange look in his eyes. They’re distant and cold. It’s … more than a little creepy, and probably speaks to some internal instability in his co-worker that John should be worried about.

So naturally, he buries his unease and lets it slide.

“… okay,” John sighs, and settles back onto the couch. His erection is starting to wilt at the sight of Skinny Brown-Haired guy’s pale, pimply ass, so he lets his eyes drift to Mendez and watches him touch himself for a while. After a couple of minutes, Mendez notices and reels around, glaring.

“You got something to say? Huh, Bennett?”

“What? No, dude, what the hell? You’re acting really fuckin’ weird.”

“Meaning what?” Mendez snarls.

“For one thing, all of a sudden you’re going gay for some reason –”

Mendez practically roars as he lunges forward, grabbing John by the collar and shoves him down onto his back, tightening his hands in the material.

 _He’s gonna beat the shit out of me,_ John realizes, stunned, and braces himself for a fist in the face.

It doesn’t come.

Mendez’s face does, suddenly squashed against his, violent and desperate, his moustache scraping John’s skin as he stabs his tongue into his co-worker’s mouth. It’s so rough and angry that it feels more like a fight than a kiss. Mendez is literally shaking with rage, and maybe something else too. Instinct makes John’s body respond, even when his mind is still at a standstill, and kisses back. Apparently, that’s the wrong move, because the grip on his collar tightens and John feels a drop of wetness hit his cheek the moment before Mendez pulls away, just as suddenly, wiping his mouth on his sleeve.

“The fuck? Are you some kinda faggot?” he spits, and John can see his eyes are reddening and shiny as hell.

“What the – _you_ kissed _me!”_ John exclaims, confused and alarmed, and Mendez shakes his head, looking like he’s gonna throw up for real.

“Don’t fucking lie to my face, you sick fuck!” he spits, and John can only watch as his co-worker completely loses it in his living room. Mendez is on the couch shaking one moment and on his feet, kicking over the coffee table the next.

“Hey, man, what the fuck?” John yells, and Mendez punches the wall hard enough that he has to stifle a scream, cradling his hand to his chest, sinking to the floor. His tears have finally spilled over, and he scrubs at his eyes forcefully with his sleeve, uttering a constant stream of profanity. It has to hurt, but if anything, he gets more violent with it the longer it goes on, switching from rubbing to simply hitting himself in the face. It reminds John of a fucking psych episode, or the kind of panic attacks that some of his war buddies get when the fireworks go off on the Fourth of July, and he is so, so out of his depth because he knows how to handle this on the job, but not here when he’s a little drunk with his leg off and Mendez is the one who’s losing their shit.

The cheerleaders are fucking on the TV, the slapping sound of Tanned Muscular Blond’s balls slapping the other guy’s ass with each thrust providing the backing track for the cacophony of swearing, crying, and hyperventilation that’s emanating from Mendez.

“This… this is not my mess to clean up,” John says helplessly, and is pretty sure that Mendez knows he means more than just the coffee table. Whatever the fuck this is, it predates their working relationship, probably even predates Mendez working at Litchfield. This isn’t his job. It isn’t fair.

Mendez scoffs, bristling with all the hostility of a wounded animal. John knows that the wounded ones can be the most dangerous. After all, they have nothing to lose. He tries to keep things calm.

“Look, I don’t know what’s going on, and honestly, I’m uncomfortable. This is getting out of control, and –”

_“YOU FUCKING STARTED THIS!”_

Mendez is on him again in a second, pushing him back onto the couch and straddling him, pinning him down.

“I shoulda known you were a fuckin’ cocksucker,” he hisses, grinding his hips down hard. It hurts, and it shouldn’t make John’s dick twitch but it does. His survival instinct, tired of lying dormant, rears its head, and he thinks:

_Come on, man. If you could survive your tour of duty, you can survive this shit. Play along._

“I… don’t think I’m the one we should worry about, here.”

Mendez stares at him, rage and disbelief warring in his eyes. John stares back, swallows his fear, trepidation, and the overwhelming sense of wrong, and gently, invitingly rocks his hips upwards.

“It’s okay, man,” he says with a strange passiveness. Surrender. Mendez is stunned. Then he’s sobbing.

It’s messy; he’s sniffing and there’s snot and tears everywhere, and he’s bucking out this pathetic, feeble rhythm, cursing through clenched teeth, and John’s just being dragged along for the ride, disassociated from the world.

“I’m not a faggot,” Mendez spits out suddenly, hands clenching into fists in the fabric of John’s shirt. John grabs his wrist and holds it, firmly, reassuringly.

“I know.”

Mendez’s hips stutter and this horrible whimper, a sound like something dying, makes its way past his lips. He comes in his pants.

It’s embarrassing, undignified and, more than anything, really fucking depressing.

After his orgasm, Mendez settles down considerably, sniffling and repeating his denial, and John finds himself patting him on the shoulder as he helps him take his shoes off. John slips his leg back on and collects the remote, putting it back in order and turning off the TV. He waddles out of the room, still half-hard, and lies awake in the dark of his bedroom, leaving Mendez to stew.

He feels hollow, and a little cheap. He feels pity, so much more pity than he thought he could.

Profoundly, he feels tired, so he shuts his eyes, shuts out real life, and dreams of Daya’s curves and pretty, girlish smile.


End file.
